Page 147 of Power Play

“Because I like knowing you’re where you’re supposed to be.”

My chest squeezed. “You’re bossy.”

“Get used to it.”

I leaned against the doorframe with Ryan’s hoodie hanging too large around me and watched him walk backward several steps before turning toward the stairs.

“I already did,” I called after him.

Something in his expression softened as he looked back one last time, his gaze dropping briefly to my mouth before he smiled and disappeared around the corner.

I stayed there until the sound of his footsteps faded. After closing the door, I rested my forehead against it while the apartment settled into a quiet that felt completely different now that he was gone.

Walter took up half the couch where Ryan left him, ridiculous and enormous beneath the lamplight. The sight should’ve made me laugh again. Instead, my fingers curled into the sleeves of Ryan’s hoodie as everything from the night came rushing back at once.

His hand found mine before we reached the fair. He changed the playlist because I liked songs he hated. He paid attention to every stupid thing I looked at and appeared prouder of winning Walter than any adult man should have been. He kissed me in the middle of crowds without checking who might be watching and never hesitated until he realized I did.

Ryan had spent hours making it impossible for me to misunderstand what I meant to him. He opened doors because he liked taking care of me, paid because he wanted to take me out, held my hand whenever he could, and pulled me closer when other people looked. Every time my anxiety gave him another reason I might not matter, he answered it without making me feel ridiculous for asking.

By the end of the night, I should’ve been able to stand inside all that and believe him.

Instead, my mind returned to the parking lot and the moment his body pressed against mine while everything between us started sliding toward the place I had wanted him to take me for weeks. He had been hard against me, his breath rough and hands tight enough around my waist that there was no mistaking how much he wanted what was happening.

Then headlights passed behind us, and I stiffened like being caught in his arms was something dangerous.

Ryan didn’t stop because he had changed his mind about my body. He stopped because he felt me change mine the second someone might see us.

That should’ve made the night easier to understand.

It didn’t.

I walked toward the bedroom and deliberately kept my eyes away from the mirror. Ryan had given me an entire night of proof, and I had given him the first reason to wonder whether I would choose him as easily when other people were watching.

The worst part was that his question already had an answer.

Being alone with Ryan felt safe because I only had to trust him.

Being seen with him meant I would eventually have to trust myself enough to stand beside him when everyone else told me why I shouldn’t.

8

Ryan

My suitcase had been open on the bed for forty minutes, and somehow I had managed to pack three T-shirts, two pairs of jeans, and enough resentment toward Flint to make the two-hour drive feel personal.

I had taken road trips since I was a teenager. Hockey meant leaving. Hotels, buses, unfamiliar locker rooms, shitty mattresses, and protein bars for breakfast because nobody had found a restaurant yet. None of it bothered me. I liked the movement, liked arriving somewhere with one purpose and leaving after the final horn with an answer about whether we had done our jobs.

This time, I kept looking at my phone.

Charm had texted twice since I left her apartment the night before. The first message came ten minutes after I got home because I told her to let me know when she got into bed, which she complained about even while doing exactly what I asked.

Charm: In bed. Walter has been denied access because he’s too large, and I refuse to be suffocated by a panda you forced upon me.

I had laughed hard enough that the empty apartment felt less empty.

Ryan: You begged for Walter.

Charm: I admired him.